


Case File IDC5-3374-5

by HelixDraxzonyx



Series: HelixDraxzonyx's Horror Shorts Collection [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Horror, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 00:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelixDraxzonyx/pseuds/HelixDraxzonyx
Summary: A member of The Institute gives a personal account of an incident in her career that saw her brushing with death before joining The Institute, and the events that led to her being put in that position to begin with.
Series: HelixDraxzonyx's Horror Shorts Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547110





	Case File IDC5-3374-5

Some of you may possibly be familiar with my reports by now. They are accounts of incidents that took place before I joined The Institute, that I came to learn about some time afterwards. This however, is my own account. My own incident that changed my life, and saw me becoming a member of The Institute. For the sake of making things easier, you may call me Joanna. I have never been what you would call a genius, but there were some areas in which I would excel. Athleticism, problem solving, logistics, strategic thinking, even leadership to a degree, but not quite as noticeably so as in other areas. I was also observed to possess uncommonly swift reflexes and good instincts. I found myself joining the Royal Air Force at an early age, where once again I excelled as a pilot. 

It didn't take long for me to be dispatched for a tour of duty in the Middle East. Most of the time I would be a part of strike missions, bringing much-needed air support against the more fortified ISIS positions. Occasionally though, I'd run transport as well. No matter how hairy things got, I always made the drop, and always made the pickup. It got to the point where I became kinda famous amongst the ground troops. They'd always say that if I were the one flying, you'd make it out alive. No-one died on my chopper. In or out, you'd make it as long as you were onboard. The second you step off, that's when my apparent divine protection wore off. I never believed the exaggerations myself, of course. I was just doing my job and listening to my instincts. 

After four years out there, ISIS were getting pushed back, conflicts seemed to be less frequent, and so it didn't seem necessary to have as many pilots around. I was one of several pilots who were recalled. I wasn't going to complain about that. After four years of the desert I was looking forward to cooler weather, rain and snow, and proper British food. I ended up being stationed at RAF Coningsby with the 3 (F) Squadron, and that would eventually change my life in ways I could never have imagined.

During my time with the 3 (F) Squadron, I came to respond to a number of interception missions. You'd be surprised how frequently Russia probes UK airspace, testing our response times. It's a lot more often than the media makes it sound. This will become important later, but suffice to say I saw myself flying intercept missions more frequently than any other mission I'd ever flown before. There were some weeks where I'd have to intercept more than a dozen times. It never got any less tense, responding 2-3 times a day in some cases. Even though it was absurdly unlikely that conflict would break out, we still had to respond as though that were a possibility. We couldn't afford to be lax about the interceptions. We were being tested, after all. Failure was not an option. Then came the intercept mission that I will never forget.

I'm used to being called out at all hours of the day and night, so a 3am dispatch was nothing new to me. One Tupolev Tu-95MS was inbound, myself and one other were to intercept and escort it away. Nothing out of the ordinary, until we got out over the North Sea. It was then that I noticed pieces weren't adding up. I said that I've responded to a lot of these airspace probes, so I've memorised everything there is to know about the Tu-95MS. What we were responding to, it wasn't one of them. It was too fast, moving erratically, and as we got closer, I saw that the profile was all wrong as well. For a brief moment I thought it could have been a Sukhoi of some kind, but the ranges that Sukhois are capable of didn't add up. Even going as the crow flies would be too much for some variants, and they would fly through more than one Air Defence Zones in the process. A carrier launch could explain it, but the speed, manoeuvrability and airframe profiles were all wrong, for all aircraft currently in use by Russia. That's when I noticed them: a group of ships in the sea below me, heading towards the invader. Based upon the vague dimensions that I could discern, it seemed as though there were two Cruisers, with an escort of three Frigates and six Destroyers. More and more mysteries seemed to be piling up, but I would never have the chance to comment upon any of them.

The inbound craft was on a direct heading now, no longer moving erratically. It was heading for the mainland. I tried broadcasting a warning, advising the invader to change heading or we would open fire. No response. Not verbally anyway. It hadn't even crossed our ADZ before it displayed hostility. Jenkins, my wingman: he was gone before I could even figure out what hit him. I didn't perceive the flash of light at the time, but that was all it took, and then his Typhoon FRG4 was gone. Vaporised, as best I can tell. No explosion, no debris, just erased in an instant. I reacted on instinct to avoid being hit myself, then the ships took over. Missiles and gunfire erupted from below. Some seemed to hit the craft but I had no way of knowing if it even had any effect, besides provoking the craft. One of the Cruisers was ripped apart, and about half of the escort ships were devastated as well. It was focused upon the ships, so of course it didn't see me coming.

I know I hit it with a burst from the Mauser BK-27. At that range I couldn't miss, but I saw the rounds chewing into whatever the hell it was that I was actually shooting. I had no chance to assess the damage, but it drew the craft's attention back to me. I questioned that decision at the time, but later I would realise it was the right move. Command must have figured out I was in combat by now, and were probably scrambling more fighters to reinforce me. I never did find out. They tried to radio me, but I was jammed almost immediately. I wouldn't have been able to respond anyway. All of my attention was focused on staying alive. I was surprised, if I'm honest. As fast and as manoeuvrable as that craft was, the pilot's skills were surprisingly basic. I could keep out of direct firing line easily enough, though that didn't make things any less stressful. One lucky hit was all that it needed to end me, but it never got that chance. The surviving Cruiser fired another volley of missiles. That time I _did_ see it cause damage, but not enough to end the matter. The craft turned back, and so did I. Whether or not it detected the missile lock is unknown, but that doesn't matter. I fired both of my IRIS-T missiles, both striking the recently damaged sector of the vessel. The explosion was substantially bigger than I anticipated. I'm lucky to have survived, but I did. 

I had no chance to feel relieved, or to try and radio base. I heard the missile lock-on warning, and then I heard the authoritative voice speaking, coldly and bluntly. I was being ordered to remain in the area and await further instructions. I didn't have long to wait, but what I saw next was quite surprising. From beneath the waves rose a vessel of Carrier size, yet it was submersible. I'd heard rumours that the Japanese had built submarines that could launch aircraft like a carrier during World War II, but this was a full-fledged Aircraft Carrier that just happened to be able to go underwater. I was ordered to land on the runway, and to exit my jet with my hands raised. I was warned that failure to comply would result in my demise. Needless to say, I wasn't about to risk fleeing, even if I hate landing a Typhoon on a Carrier. I've done it before, of course, I just hate doing it. 

I did as I was told, and stepped out onto the deck. The welcome I received was far from warm. Two dozen armed personnel had their weapons trained on me. Black outfits, face masks, no emblems or insignias, no indication of rank or even gender. Their rifles were unlike anything I'd seen as well. Sleek and futuristic. What I could see of the rifles in the darkness anyway. Then after a few tense moments, a booming voice called out, the friendliness was almost alien given the circumstances. 

“Remarkable performance, pilot. We really appreciate the help you provided. Stand down, Phalanx. She's no threat to us.” As these people lowered their rifles, I turned to face the speaker. His appearance sure as hell caught me off-guard. He was about 5'2 as long as you didn't count the six inch mohican, blood red in colour. His squarish head bore numerous tattoos and piercings. He had piercing blue eyes, a beak of a nose, and a blood red beard that was adorned with black beads, which seemed strangely contrasting to the broad smile he presented. He wore the same kind of outfit as everyone else, but that was all he seemed to have in common with them. I'd place his age at around forty, but it was hard to be sure. Later on I would come to think that his appearance was perfectly deceptive, given his position, but at the time I only found it bizarre. He inspected me closely, before speaking again.

“You got a name, lassie?” I don't know how I didn't pick up on the Glaswegian accent before, but now it came through crystal clear. I hesitated a little as I struggled to take in everything that was going on.

“Flight Lieutenant Joanna Marsh, RAF Coningsby 3 (F) Squadron, sir.” The man chuckled, seemingly amused by my momentary hesitation, and the formality with which I had replied.

“Flight Lieutenant Joanna Marsh: welcome to Sigma.” 

I won't go into much detail here, since most of this isn't relevant to my account. That man was Derek O'Neill. He was the head of Sigma: a Black Ops unit based in Whitehall. They dealt with things most people don't believe exist, and I joined them that day. I didn't really have any choice. The craft I shot down came from an alternate dimension. During my time in Sigma, I encountered many more threats like that. I preferred those to the more common threats. Vampires, werewolves, trolls, giants, dragons, zombies, ghosts and other spectral beings... the list goes on. Basically any supernatural being that wasn't a deity or anything of that extreme nature, though demons and fallen angels where threats I had to face on occasion. Those were definitely less pleasant to deal with than beings from other dimensions, or maybe I just hadn't had any bad experiences with those just yet. Paranormal encounters though were always tense, sinister, and bloody. 

It was after joining Sigma that I realised the significance and the brilliance of O'Neill's appearance. I mean let's face it: no-one in their right mind would suspect him of being the head of a Black Ops division, and that was the whole point. He just looked like a typical heavy metal fan. A little on the short side, but otherwise inconspicuous for his role. I adapted quickly to life in Sigma. My reflexes and instincts proved themselves once again, as did my strategic thinking. After just two years I became a Squadron Leader, spearheading operations across the continent, using technology and equipment decades ahead of anything else known to man. At the time, I'd thought that all those threats I'd faced in secret had been rather challenging, but compared to what I get set up against now, those dangers seem utterly trivial. I got my first glimpse of that soon enough. 

The assignment was a strange one from the outset. As I said, our operations took place throughout Europe. That was our range. This mission though, was outside our normal area. Outside our jurisdiction as well, but we were to be the ones handling it anyway. The target area was the central Ural Mountains. A number of settlements and even whole cities had suddenly become deserted, along with classified Russian military bases. Local law enforcement went missing. Special forces went missing. Even a unit from Russia's own Black Ops division had gone missing. Reluctantly, they then called for our assistance. We were to send our best and bravest to Nizhny Tagil; one of the largest affected sites, and also the first city to go silent in the region. From there, we would trace the cause of the disappearances, neutralise the threat, and bring back any survivors. I was to lead the team. The prospect was daunting, and I knew we were going to run into the worst trouble we have ever faced.

Let me make one thing especially clear. Nizhny Tagil had a population of more the 350,000 people. It's no meagre settlement, and yet the entire city went dark overnight. No distress calls, no conflict, no nothing. More than 350,000 people seemingly just vanished, without resistance, without warning, without a trace. Factor in the other affected areas, and the investigation teams, and we get a figure close to one million in total. Nothing like this has ever been handled by Sigma before. Nothing like it ever was again, for that matter. I didn't know it at the time, but not only would this be my final mission with Sigma, it would be the last mission that Sigma conducted as well.

I hand-picked my squad personally, selecting the most skilled and most fearless members Sigma had to offer. Twenty-four operatives, and myself making twenty-five. We landed at Salka Airport, and we made for Nizhny Tagil. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary just yet, aside from the severe lack of people of course, but that was soon to change. Once in the city, we disembarked, and began using scanning devices to search for any clues. The first oddity we detected was that not only was the area devoid of Human life, it was devoid of animal life too. I had just started giving out orders when the situation became far worse than I anticipated. My team stopped responding. They stood right before me, but they didn't acknowledge orders. It was as if they couldn't hear or see me. More than that, it was as if they were in a trance. It took a few moments to realise, they _were_ in a trance. As one, they turned and began marching towards the Ural Mountains. I was stunned for a moment, before giving chase. I tried everything I could think of to snap them out of it. Nothing seemed to work. Our technology, our med supplies, a slap to the face. Even a kick to the balls went entirely without reaction. My team were completely under someone else's control. Or some *thing* else. Knowing that I couldn't break their hypnosis, I was resigned to tagging along. If I could find the source of the trance, maybe I could do something about _that_ instead.

It was a long march to the Ural Mountains. For the entire journey I kept a very close watch on my surroundings, but it was truly lifeless there. As we got closer though, I could feel something pulling at me, some kind of invisible force or will that wanted me to go to the mountains. I didn't know why I wasn't affected, but I'm still glad of it to this day. I'm alive because of it. Once we reached the Ural Mountains, and entered a well-hidden cave, that's when things became less lifeless. I instantly wished that it was still desolate around there, for the cave system was inhabited by giant spiders. The largest of these could be up to four feet tall and up to twelve feet in diameter. No two spiders looked alike, varying in size, shape, colour, hairiness... you name it. The only thing they ever had in common with one another is that they were hostile towards me. They seemed to know that I wasn't hypnotised, so they were trying to kill me because of that. Trying to fend them off while in the midst of my mesmerised team was not easy, but at least the spiders were dying off a lot easier than I was expecting, given their size. Whenever there was a lull in the fighting, I'd rush around my companions, taking their spare magazines so that I could keep on fighting. After a while the spiders stopped appearing. A part of me hoped they were all dead. Oh how wrong I was.

We walked for about half an hour in silence, with only my weapon light for illumination, and only our breathing and footsteps could be heard. At the end of that half hour though, I saw a light up ahead, dim at first but it quickly became a bright, bluish-white light that was more than a little painful after so long underground. The source of the light soon presented itself as we entered into a huge underground chamber. At a guess I'd say it was about a mile long, half a mile or so wide, and I never did figure out how high the roof of the chamber was. In the centre of the chamber was a giant crystal, four hundred feet long, one hundred feet wide and the same again in height. The crystal, as far as I could tell, was pale blue in colour, but the light glowing from it made that a little hard to be sure. That, and what was inside the crystal. I'll come back to that in just a moment. First though, I need to point out that all along the edges of the chamber, crawling along every last inch of every walls, were giant spiders. Countless thousands of them, possibly millions. There is no way I had enough ammunition to deal with all of them, but they weren't attacking just yet. They were being held at bay, by the occupant of the crystal.

If you were to ask me to describe this thing in one word, the only one that could sum it up would be Lovecraftian. Certainly it reminded me very strongly of some of the descriptions of Nyarlathotep. It was mostly a mass of slim tentacles with sharp, piercing tips to them. Many of these tentacles extended out of the crystal and wriggled freely. Not much more was discernable save for four powerful legs like those found on western dragons, and a ring of eight vivid yellow eyes that seemed to float separately from the rest of the monstrosity. I stopped dead in my tracks, but my team kept on marching, straight for the crystal and the horror within. Once they approached close enough, the tentacles thrust with frightening speed, impaling my enchanted companions, piercing their hearts. Their blood was sucked out, the tentacles glowing scarlet in response to the feast. Once they had been fully exsanguinated, their lifeless bodies were thrown to the spiders, who devoured their remains, bones and all. It took a moment to realise than the crystal had shrunk in size, but not its occupant, and that now the monster's legs were free to move, as were its eyes. I suppressed my fear and made to avenge my team, firing a few shots at the creatures eyes. Three eyes were penetrated, and were clearly injured, but the monster did not seem to care all that much. Instead it spoke, with a deep, rasping voice.

“You... you are different. You can resist my power.” The voice spoke slowly, as if it was unsure of how to speak English, unsure of how to speak at all really. I put a bullet through two more eyes. I still wonder if I would have been better off aiming for the legs, though I'm confident it would not have made a difference. Two strides was all it took to bring the monster within range. I tried to dodge the inevitable, but the tentacle still punched through my abdomen and deep into my spine. It never had the chance to drain me however. The tentacle was severed almost as soon as it pierced me, and the tip of it wrenched free by nothingness. I fell limply to the ground. My legs had stopped working, the nerves leading to them having been cut off by the tentacle. I heard footsteps approaching, and turned my head to see a young man. I'm not permitted to describe his appearance, save for that he wore the combat fatigues of a British Army soldier, yet wore the rank insignia of a Field Marshal. The man spoke calmly, as if he had seen monsters like this one all the time. I later learned that he did, and far worse ones as well.

“Looks like I got here in time to save one person at least. I'll wrap this up in just a moment. In the meantime, don't die. As long as you're alive I can take care of your injuries.” I wanted to warn the man that he was in range of the tentacles, but that wasn't necessary as it turns out. The creature regarded him curiously, as its eyes healed themselves.

“Oh? You're a strong one. If you submit to me, I shall allow you to live as my pet.” The soldier answered casually, with a hint of distaste.

“No thanks. I'm not the submissive type. I prefer to dominate. I'll make you submit to me instead, before I end you.” The man's tone, and the words he said, both seemed to anger and offend the tentacled horror. It roared deafeningly, before speaking with tangible hostility.

“I? Submit to a puny insect such as you? I will never yield to you. I will pull the limbs from your body for your blasphemy, mortal!” The exposed tentacles all speared towards the man, before being shredded by nothingness. The creature shrieked in pain, but it was still intent on fighting. As it tried to swipe with one of the front limbs, I mustered my failing energy to fire a short burst at the other front leg, perforating the lowest joint I could aim for, but to very little effect save for a few spurts of thick, purplish blood. The creature swiped regardless, but by the time the clawed limb reached the apex of its swing there was almost nothing left of it, the rest having been reduced to pulp by an invisible attack. The creature then started to sink down on its limbs, as though being pressed down by an immense weight. The soldier spoke once again.

“If you won't yield to me, then why are you on your knees before me?” The monster snarled against the pain it was being subjected to.

“I-impossible... what... what are you?” Though I couldn't see his face, there was something in the soldier's voice as he answered that made me sure he was smirking right now.

“I am Orion. The Hunter. The Slayer of Gods and monsters alike. A weak leech like yourself is no match for me. You're finished.” The monster could only howl in agony as it began to crush inwards, like someone scrunching up a ball of paper, becoming a smaller and smaller mass of pulp before seemingly blinking out of existence. A ring of fire burst into life around the edge of the chamber and rose upwards, cremating the giant spiders as it swept over them relentlessly. The soldier clapped his hands and popped the vertebrae in his neck before turning to me.

“Ah, good. You're still alive. Outstanding. I've taken care of your injury, so you should be able to stand. How're the nerves? I hate repairing nerve damage so forgive me if I've made any mistakes.” I looked at him incredulously for a moment. _Is this guy for real? He didn't even touch me. How can he have-_ I didn't get much further than that with my thoughts before realising that I could feel my legs. The pain in my stomach was gone. A quick examination showed that there was no injury. No scar tissue, no blood, no signs whatsoever that I had ever been impaled. I stood up cautiously, my mind unable to comprehend what was going on.

“How did you-” Orion cut me off.

“That's a long story, I'll tell it to you later. Suffice to say I possess a lot of special abilities, though it's not like I'm Omnipotent or anything. I've gotta say, you're a lot stronger than most people I know. Brave too. Even in a situation like this, you weren't ready to surrender. I like that. Then again, you work for Sigma, so that's to be expected. I'm not reading your mind, per se, but you're kinda broadcasting your thoughts. How would you like to work with me instead? I can teach you how to stop broadcasting, and I can teach you a lot of other neat tricks too. I won't lie, working with me is more dangerous than what you're used to. The threats that The Institute tackles include ones that could destroy the planet, and more than that even. We deal with smaller things too, but it's not all plain sailing. Still, if you're a fast learner, you'll soon be able to take out dragons and the like by yourself in a matter of seconds. Small fry like that will be so much easier for you than they are now.” I was still reeling from everything that had happened, and Orion had just spouted a lot more, right after my closest brush with death. I scratched my head uncertainly.

“You sure you want _me_? Surely there's got to be better people than me, right?” Orion shook his head.

“You're the best candidate I've come across in all the ten thousand years that I've been with The Institute. Again, that's a long story. I could really use someone like you as my right hand on operations. The others don't quite have what I need. Your reflexes and instincts are better than theirs, and you have better control over your emotions, especially fear. In this line of work, those capabilities are essential. What do you say?” 

I don't think I need to tell you that I accepted his offer. That was the day I first met Orion. It was the day I joined The Institute, and also the day that Sigma was shut down. They'd lost their best operatives, much of their resources, and as far as the Ministry of Defence were concerned; they'd failed their most critical mission. Yet despite the outcome, news of what happened to the towns and cities around the Ural Mountains never got out. In fact, no-one knows those places had ever been vacated, as they were resettled immediately. Only Sigma and their Russian counterparts knew of the disappearance of the indigenous population. Such is the capabilities of The Institute, who works independently from all organisations and governments, operating from the shadows of shadows. 

What more do I need to say? The monster is classified as an Interdimensional Demigod, and is designated as IDG-2276-6. Said Demigod had the power to manipulate the bioelectric currents of any lifeforms within its range, affecting a form of mind control on its victims. It would feed on their blood in order to grow its strength. It is unclear how long it had been in our world for, or who had originally encased it in crystal, but that doesn't seem all that important now. It's highly unlikely it came to our dimension willingly. Nor was it sent here deliberately. At first, the Demigod would probably have fed upon whatever cave-dwelling critters it could find, until it had consumed enough blood to draw in prey from greater distances. At the time I encountered it, the Demigod could extend its power over a radius of around 150 miles, pulling anything within that radius to it so that it could feed. That was the fate of the local populace. There was no conflict because they were coerced into leaving their homes willingly. 

The spiders, classified as Other-Dimensional Arachnids, were the servants and protectors of the Demigod. It is believed that they crossed over into our dimension via a rift, one of many that The Institute knows about. The incident is being classified as a Category 5 Interdimensional Catastrophe. Though the situation was resolved, the death toll was truly immense. The Institute does not blame Orion for this, only its inability to detect and respond to the situation sooner. Though The Institute utilizes technology that makes even Sigma's equipment seem archaic, there are still limitations to it. Orion on the other hand feels that he should have been able to sense and respond to the situation sooner, but he had been engaged in another assignment at the time. 

I should also add that the reason the Demigod was unable to control me is because my cerebrospinal fluid contains small quantities of Chromium and Iridium. I don't know how, or why, and it doesn't seem to have any negative effects upon me. These two metals however do not exist within the Demigod's dimension, and so when it tried to control me, the Chromium and Iridium generated a kind of dampening field, jamming the Demigod's ability. Orion described it as being akin to Chaff Seeds. I believe that is all that remained to be said, of what I'm permitted to say, at least. And so, this concludes my personal account of case file IDC5-3374-7.


End file.
